


A lifelong con

by SrebrnaFH



Series: Time enough to just live [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Internship, Irondad, Peter Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Sassy Peter, Shopping, They live because fuck you AU, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, money issues, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-14 00:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH
Summary: Peter finally has to go suits shopping with Mr Stark. He isn't very happy about it.





	A lifelong con

**Author's Note:**

> A followup to "Ruling with an iron ladle".

Over the next few days the work, as before, alternated between sessions in the lab, following Mrs Stark ("Call me Pepper, if you can, but it's OK either way") everywhere around the SI building as her private go-fer and regular 'general wellbeing' afternoons, when all manner of things were covered, from cooking to heavy-weight workout to _katas_ and yoga with Pepper. His school day was pretty full, too, so, between homework, bigger assignments, test preparation and the internship, he barely had time to think about sleeping.

So he kind of forgot about the photoshoot.

Also, he kind of hoped Mrs and Mr Stark would forget, despite all the excitement they had been showing when it was first mentioned.

No such luck.

Not only did the both of them have inconveniently good memories, they also had Friday who reminded them all, one lovely Friday (hah) afternoon that the next day was perfect for some shopping. Specifically, suits shopping.

Peter groaned, resting his head on the worktable.

"What's up, kid? I thought we were going to just test stuff tomorrow and make a review for your chemistry exam...? Isn't going shopping better?"

"Digging ditches is better than shopping," Peter mumbled. "Chopping wood with a dull axe is better than shopping... Probably cleaning my room is better than shopping."

Mr Stark's heavy hand squeezed his shoulder.

"Peter, what's wrong? It's not a torture chamber, it's just _shopping_."

"It might as well be. I mean, I hate trying things on. All these fabrics and, and undressing and putting them on and..."

A heartbeat or two of silence.

And a small, smothered laughter.

"There won't be a _lot_ of trying things on, Peter," Mrs Stark patted his other shoulder. "There may be some measuring though. And we'll have to find your exact shirt size."

"What?" he straightened, surprised. "Why? I know what size I am..."

"Not in dress shirts, you don't, buddy. Now, we eat something and let's talk chemistry for the rest of the afternoon. You will ace this exam."

Peter sighed and pushed away from the workstation, securing the bits and pieces he had been fiddling with under a protective cover. Eating was normal. Discussing lessons, his or Morgan's, over the meal, also became a new normal. That was good, that was known.

Shopping, however, was not something he had ever enjoyed.

_Ever._

He wasn't really paying attention to the conversation, answering pretty randomly when Mr Stark lobbed a question his way, and never even noticed when the evening wound up to an end and it was time to decide whether he would stay over (as he sometimes did) or go back home to May.

Normally, staying over would have had a lot of pros for it - sitting up late with his hosts, being treated like an adult - being included in company-related conversation - and watching a movie on Mr Stark's big home theatre setup. That evening... not so much.

He opted for asking to be dropped off at home, as he counted on Happy being the chosen driver. No such luck, unfortunately. As he picked up his things, Mr Stark joined him in the hall, twirling one of the car cards in his fingers, and they spent an uneasy quiet minute in the lift on their way down.

The same weird silence accompanied them to the car - one of these sleek, anonymous machines that Mr Stark used when he needed to drive around the city incognito.

"Hop in, kiddo. We'd better get you home before eleven, or we risk having you turn into a pumpkin."

"I'm pretty sure it was the carriage that had turned into a pumpkin, not Cinderella," he murmured.

"Hah, it speaks. And did you just compare yourself to Cinderella? Am I a magicked-up mouse then?"

Peter shrugged, unable to put into words what was bothering him.

His mentor buckled his seatbelt and started the car. They were both silent as he manoeuvred out of the parking lot, but the moment they were on the street, Mr Stark glanced over to him and asked, rather directly, "What's wrong, kid? You've been about as active as a bear in the middle of the winter today, and that's not normal. Half of the time you were not listening, the other half all I could get out of you were single words. That's not like you. Friday evenings are usually a bit more... engaged?"

He shrugged.

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing if it's bothering you that much. Spill."

He combed his hair away from his face, trying to find the right words. Ones that would tell the truth and not make him sound like a kid scared of his first day at school.

"It's the photoshoot?"

"Are you asking me, or is this some way of telling me you aren't very sure?"

Peter sighed.

"It's the photoshoot, sir. And the shopping. And, in general, me, being, I dunno, quoted. Shown in a magazine. Stuff. People will be reading what I said...! And looking at me, and I, I always do something stupid...!" he buried fingers deep in his hair, trying to manage the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him.

"Hey, hey, hey. Stop panicking. Nothing is going to happen. If you seriously don't want this, we'll pick someone else. No worries. I just thought..." Mr Stark trailed off, rather uncharacteristically.

"What?" Peter glanced to the side.

"Well, I hoped to see you in that magazine, actually. Show you off a bit, I suppose."

That surprised Peter. A lot.

"But I thought it was just the ladies from the Marketing..."

They took a smooth left turn.

"They started it, to be sure. But then I checked old issues of that mag and I thought, well, I thought you'd be better than half of the people showcased there. And you'd be a really good representation of what SI does..."

"I wouldn't, not really," Peter countered softly. "I mean... It's not like I'm a normal intern, am I?"

Mr Stark glanced at him and nodded, somewhat reluctantly.

"No, I suppose not."

"Normal intern is more like Tobias, who works in the accounting, or, or Lena, at reception. Or whoever-she-is in the marketing. Not... not _me_. Doing all this... this additional stuff."

A heavy hand ruffled his hair.

"That's true," his mentor admitted finally. "But I still think you would do fine. Let's... Let's say we do it like this. Tomorrow we go shopping, just the two of us. No ladies, no distraction, a strict plan. Just you, me and a tailor's shop and then two or three others, where we will buy some ready-made stuff. Let me finish...! Now, you need a suit anyway, because you've grown since your homecoming and even that wasn't a very well-fitting jacket, I'm afraid. And you will need some formal wear for... well, there are things I'd like you to attend. With me. Or with Pepper. Or both."

Peter tugged at the hair he was gripping, relishing in the small pain.

"So you will need a proper suit. Or two. And shirts, and shoes. Stuff that will be comfortable but formal enough for higher level business meetings."

"...what...?"

"Oh boy. Okay, relax. Breathe. Not yet. But, you know. Future. I need you to be prepared, one day. Better than I was. No matter. There is a lot of time still. But for now, you'll need a suit. A standard, well-fitted day suit, to be precise. Something light and comfy."

Peter rubbed his eyes.

"OK. Tomorrow, suit. Then we can talk about this photoshoot...?"

"Fine. I'll swing by around nine. It's better to start before it becomes unbearably hot."

He got out of the car, still feeling significantly daunted by the prospect of _shopping with Tony Stark_ that was coming on the next day. Shopping for suits with Tony Stark.

_Shit._

"Hey, kid," the warm presence of his mentor awoke him to the fact that he was standing on the pavement, immobile, lost in thought. "It's going to be alright. This can be fun, you know. I'll show you."

"Y-yeah," he nodded, shakily. "I'm just, you know. Not... Not that good with..."

"Peter?"

"It's going to be pretty expensive, right?"

A small 'ah' from the big man brought Peter's focus to him.

"Don't you worry about _that_, Spider-boy. From my point of view, it's the marketing department's expense. If they want my intern to be shown off to the world, the company pays for it."

_Oh, shit shit shiiit._

Peter tried to put his doubts in words, but the very idea of _company money_ and _expenses_ made him lose control of his mouth completely.

"B-but others... I mean, it's like, I'm scamming SI for... for money for... Everyone else would be, like..."

Two hands on his shoulders. Grounding. Calming.

"Crap. No, sorry, kiddo, I didn't mean it like this. It was just a joke. It's a gift, OK? From Pepper and me. Let's count it against your birthday present. Who knows _how_ we are supposed to count your birthday now, by the way, so, you know. I'm going to just use the general period of the fifty-six days after your calendar birthday and annoy you with gifts."

"My b-birthday is in t-two months," he managed.

"Well, let's get an early start then. Tomorrow. Nine, here. Dress lightly."

"Nine. OK. I'll be here, sir."

Another squeeze to his shoulders.

_Oh, crap. Oh, crap, Parker, now you are in for it._

####

It was a hard night.

May had called Mr Stark to confirm the whole thing.

May had spent half an hour on the phone with Mr Stark. And Mrs Stark.

May then came to his room, where he was fretting quietly and smiled at him.

Indulgently.

He was quite ready to bite his nails off at the elbow.

"Tony said you'd be going to some suit fitting tomorrow," she reiterated. "For company purposes."

"Kindof," he mumbled, dropping his gaze.

"Well?"

"It's... it'saphotoshootforamagazine."

She stood there, waiting silently.

He took a few breaths and tried again.

"A photoshoot. For a magazine."

"Yes, Tony said. 'Young Business', they are documenting interns from various tech companies. They want you to be a representative of SI. Tony says you need some new clothes for this."

"Yeah."

"And you don't want it."

"Not sure. I mean... I'm not actually an intern, am I? I mean, I'm like... like not... Other interns don't do all this stuff. Like me. I mean, who else spends every afternoon with their bosses? And who else is one day in the lab, up to his elbows in grease and another on a board meeting, taking notes, or, or trying to look reasonably intelligent in the face of the people from a vendor or whoever... And then swings around the city under their boss's supervision every other evening? And, May..." he grimaced, looking up at her. "If they ask me what I'm doing, what am I supposed to say? Or, or, how I got the internship? Or..."

"Tony and Pepper will tell you. This is all on them. You just have to stick to the guidelines and, in case something is unclear, say that you need to check with Tony if it's OK to share this. You may even work with him on some points when you will _have_ to ask him even if you already know it's fine, to show them you just can't talk about everything. For example, you could talk openly about working with Pepper and learning the ropes by assisting her, but strategically ask Tony for confirmation whether you are allowed to tell people about working on the Iron Man's suit. And then if they ask more, check again... They will catch on soon that you just can't speak about some aspects of your duties."

"But... May, if I just _say_ stuff by accident? I sometimes can't stop myself..."

"You've kept Spider Man a secret for ages now, you can keep him secret for a few hours of an interview."

He sighed and pulled at his hair.

"I wish Mr Stark would sit in on this. Or Mrs Stark. I mean, I _am_ a minor, shouldn't there be someone overseeing this...? Making sure I don't spill a secret that I don't even know is a secret? What if they ask me something that may make SI look bad...?!"

"Hm."

He looked up and saw May watching him with narrowed eyes.

"You wish for adult oversight on this?"

He nodded mutely.

"OK. I'll talk to Tony tomorrow. Will it work?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so."

"Now. Shower, teeth and bed. Unless you need something to eat first?"

He tried _listening_ to his body like he had recently learnt to - ever since Mr Stark started to work on feeding him adequately to the energy expenditure during training and patrols. It was quiet. Not hungry, not full, just... nothing. Well, almost. His stomach clenched unhappily.

"No. Just some milk, I think. It's just... I'm tired, I suppose."

"You've been worrying about this all evening?"

He just nodded, wordlessly.

Three mugs of milk and a shower later he fell into bed.

And proceeded to stay awake for the next four hours, stressing over the coming day all that time.

At half past eight his phone chimed softly, waking him from uneasy dreams full of camera flashes and microphones pushed straight into his face.

"Shit."

Get up, Parker. Eat some breakfast, or the man will try to feed you. Take a shower, brush your teeth, comb these ridiculous curls, get yourself _together_!

He stumbled into the kitchen and started pouring the cereal into the bowl, already thinking about some way of adding some protein to the carb-rich meal.

"Whey powder," Mr Stark's voice accompanied the package dropped on the counter next to Peter's elbow. "Just a few spoons, but you can probably use twice the daily dose of a standard human."

He managed to _not_ jump - the man was never alerting his spidery senses, since he was not a _threat_ as such. He was just a surprise.

"Did I oversleep...?" he asked weakly.

"No, no... I just thought I should consult on some details with May, considering we've had this little conversation yesterday. Don't worry. Eat, dress, let's get out of here and get some shopping done."

Peter groaned internally, but added two heaping spoons of the powder to the bowl and scarfed the whole thing down without losing much time for breathing. Despite his best attempts, however, he didn't manage to ignore the low-voiced discussion between May and Mr Stark, as they were _right bloody next to him._

"...anxious. Needs your support to avoid _certain topics._"

"...absolutely, no problem. If he needs anything..."

"...reassure him, so he can be sure he's not mentioning..."

"...Pepper would have my head..."

"...just temporarily, but since his status as an intern is rather unorthodox..."

"...obviously, May. I'll be there."

He sighed. OK. Good. Thank God for May.

"Thank you, Tony. I know you'd do anything for him."

"He's such a good kid I'm mostly worried people will try to manipulate him," came a low-voiced, worried reply. "Some will see him as a meal ticket and some as a way to get back at me, once they work out the connections. I don't want to expose him to all the ugliness this business attracts."

"You can't protect him forever, Tony. And he already knows that life is not a particularly fair thing."

"Oh, I know. But I just..."

"Tony, he _is_ nearly an adult. August next year, he will be eighteen. Legally of age."

"Well, October, more like."

"The law was passed today. They add these fifty-six days to everyone's age for ID and administrative purposes - or more like, deducting five years from their age, straight. So, Peter turns eighteen in a year and two months. You have to prepare for that fact and you have to make sure you don't coddle him too much. Talk to him about it. About people who took advantage of you and your loneliness. Tell him things. Tell him the truth, because he can't be forever isolated from real world."

"But I don't want him to..."

"He's not five, Tony. Your other kid is five, this one is nearly seventeen. Treat him like the man he is, but always take into account that he is a kid. Simply a very grown one."

"Sometimes I wish they'd never grow up. I don't want him to lose this... this _shine_, I suppose."

"Tony, you are an impractical romantic."

"I could sue you for saying this kind of shit, May. Any judge would rule in my favour."

"Yeah, as if that would have given you any money. By the way..."

Mr Stark sighed.

"No way. It was my marketing team's idea - well, Pepper's marketing team's, in a way - and I won't have you or Peter bearing any costs of this. Also, May..." there was a pause and some papers were moved across the table. "I will need you to sign this."

"But, he should..."

"Sh. Surprise. If we can. Just read this, sign and let me shower our boy with the backlog of five years of birthday presents, hm?"

"If you put it like this..."

Peter stood there, rooted to the spot.

First, there were documents, being now signed by Aunt May.

Second, Mr Stark was calling him 'our boy'.

Third, he was still in his boxers and pyjama top and they were supposed to be leaving, like, NOW.

_Shit._

He cleaned after his breakfast in record time, feeling, he had to admit, quite full now. It was, of course, a temporary and very fleeting feeling, but it seemed it could just be enough for two to three hours without bothering Mr Stark too much about food. A swift, but thorough shower, a bit of a shave (what was trying to grow on his face was sparse enough to be mostly an annoyance) and he was debating the options of which pair of jeans to put on.

"Peter? Are you ready?"

"Just give me a sec, May! I need to..." he dove for a pair of probably-matching socks. "Just a moment!"

"I'm giving you two minutes and if you aren't out here by that time, I'll start feeding Tony cookies."

Jesus effing Christ, that was a threat.

And not because Peter liked these cookies, and would be worried about them being eaten, quite to the contrary.

He rather liked _Mr Stark_ and May's cookies were a biological weapon in the making.

He had managed to finish dressing in a minute and twenty seconds.

"OK. So, May, I'm taking him off your hands for the rest of the day, he will be returned with some new purchases, fed, watered and probably a bit worn-out. Now, kiddo, let's hurry, because we have the first appointment in half an hour."

####

At least the familiar interior of the car soothed his nerves. There was something to be said about Mr Stark being unlike anyone else - his cars were also quite uncommon. But maybe it was just the same for every billionaire and Peter was just limited in his experience... But Mr Stark _was_ rather particular about his tastes and every car smelled the same (woodsy-citrusy-sharpish), had the same set of seemingly random objects in the glove compartment (a set of music CDs, a pack of hankies, two rolls of mints and a paperback novel) and had the same type of seats cover. Yeah, the seats. Peter loved these seats.

They weren't done in the so-called "buttery leather", which he had encountered a few times in some higher-end cars (usually when one of his classmates' parents agreed to pick up/drop off several kids at once). He hated that thing with _passion_. It just felt wrong. Very wrong. The very touch of it was offensive to his senses - and since he had superactive senses, well, he also had superactive feeling of disgust to match them. Touch and smell in particular.

And that buttery leather thing made his skin crawl.

Here, however, he felt very, very comfortable. Whatever it was that these seats were covered with, it was perfectly smooth and yet slightly patterned, not sleek like some artificial fibres, but more like silk, yet not really silk, because who would put silk on car seats... Well, maybe Mr Stark. But it wasn't silk. It was...

"There is a tailor shop I used to patronise some time ago, before, well..." Mr Stark said, drawing his attention away from the fabric question. "I would have taken you there, because it is said they do good things with younger people and have some interesting models for the modern young businessman type, but they weren't discreet enough over the years, so I decided to move my custom somewhere else."

"What do you mean?" Peter forced himself to ask, fingers still tracing the raised ribbon patterned into the seat.

"Well, they sold some gossip rag the details about where exactly I'm scarred. No idea who would have wanted to read this kind of crap, but there was an article detailing, well, _everything_. There are only a few places where I undressed enough for some of these to be visible... And I mean some very specific scars that I've earned after... Anyway, the only other source of this information would have been someone from my own medical team or Pepper. Somehow, I don't see _that_ happening. Anyway. This other shop may be a bit more stuffy and grownup, but they are perfectly discreet, very well organised, have a great offer and, what is the most important, had a whole morning we could book, just for the two of us."

"But..." he bit his lip and shook his head.

"What."

"Can I say no to anything I don't like?"

"Yes."

"So, can we go home now...?"

"Peter."

He huffed. It was a legitimate thing to try.

"What do you want us to get?" he asked finally, to show that he was somewhat engaged in the whole thing.

Well, he was, but not _positively_.

"I've had a look at the previous editions of that magazine and checked what other people they showcased were wearing, so I think I have a pretty good idea where we will go. Pepper would probably have taken a different angle, but then she did delegate the task to me, didn't she?"

He could only nod at that.

"So, Friday, make a note and remind me. We'll be picking out one suit for everyday purposes - and no, you will not be expected to wear it all the time. We'll make some less dressy sets for when you accompany Pepper. At least five fitted dress shirts, to make sure you have several options to pick from. Two or three ties. Maybe two waistcoats to match the suit, ones you can wear even without the jacket. Just to provide some variety. Other than that, you'll need some casual clothes that would be a bit more upscale. I'm not criticising what you are wearing, mind you. I just mean for the photoshoot - and for work. And, Pete—" Mr Stark flashed him a smile that was bordering on evil. "You _will_ accept them... or I will tell Pepper. And Pepper will be _disappointed_."

"Seriously? You are pulling this card? Like, don't you have bigger guns?"

"Well, I could threaten to recolour your suit in baby blue and electric pink."

"Like that's gonna happen. You'd sooner die than let anyone see something you designed be displayed in this colourset."

"...or I could say I'll ask Pepper to go shopping with you. And bring Morgan. Imagine trying to tell that little face 'no'."

Peter slumped against the backrest of his seat.

"This is emotional blackmail," he grumbled. "You _know_ Morgan can convince me to do almost anything."

"Exactly."

"But I don't have to do the photoshoot?"

"No. And I won't blackmail you to do it later either. But I will show you the previous editions of what they did and we will make fun of them and think what you could have said if it was you being interviewed."

Peter sighed.

It was really, really hard to say 'no' to Tony Stark.

####

"That blue one?"

Peter squirmed a bit.

"Not... not necessarily."

"But you liked it."

"It's nice."

"So we take it."

"But, Mr Stark..."

"We'll have the blue one. And a set of shirts to match it, in a gradient. Five. And three of these t-shirts. Make sure they are well fitted."

"But..."

"Birthday, Pete. Birthday. Let's count this as your birthday present for 2018."

"Seriously?"

"And the tie is for Christmas. Lame Christmas present, a tie. Will have to find something better later."

"...Mr Stark...!"

"And these slacks, and the khakis. Two pairs."

"You promised."

That seemed to stop the man. For a moment.

"Can you honestly say you don't like them?"

"I _don't like_ you spending your money on them."

"Peter, this is nonsense. I have more than enough. Actually, as we were standing here and discussing, I've probably earned more than enough to buy this whole shop, just off the dividends. Please, accept that, in this particular case, I will—"

"You promised."

Peter wasn't planning to argue with his mentor. Quite to the contrary, he wanted to get along with the man, because getting along with Mr Stark meant light banter and jokes and fun in the lab and dinners with Pepper and Morgan, but he just couldn't accept the way the man steamrolled him whenever the topic of money raised its ugly head.

"I didn't think you expected me to allow you to just pick _nothing_. I give you the freedom of expression here - you can pick the stuff you like, as long as I'm in agreement with it, but I can see that you like this blue set. And the khakis. You've _petted_ them. And don't tell me you didn't like the sapphire shirt, because I will call you a liar. You smiled and posed in front of the mirror. And it does look very well on you, if you ask me."

Peter sighed.

"But—" he worried his lip in his teeth and looked away. "I don't feel comfortable doing this. It's like—" he shook his head, unable to find the right words, and the sheer inability to convey what he felt made his lower lip tremble dangerously.

_You are not crying in a tailor's workshop, Peter. Not in front of the man who gave you so much already, don't be a baby, you little whiny..._

"Peter," a hand on his shoulder, another raising his chin. Dark brown eyes meeting his gaze. "If it stresses you so much, we can leave right now. I'm sorry for pressuring you, I didn't understand this would be such an issue. But listen, before we go... Can you just consider the fact that _this_ is a relative minor thing, compared to the suit you use nearly daily, sometimes with rather disastrous results — for both the suit and yourself? And _this_, here, is something that you need, almost as much as you need the other suit, just in a different context?"

"I don't exactly _need_ them," he countered softly. "The _other_ suit keeps me safe - keeps other people safe, because I use it. These—" he gestured towards the clothes around himself, "they don't do anything. They don't change anything. They are just clothes. There is no reason to— to spend so much on them, on me. It won't make any difference if I wear my jeans tomorrow to work or, or one of these. I can weld just the same in this shirt as... well, actually, I can do lab work much better in my current clothes. I'd be terrified I'd damage something—"

"Ah, I see. So you think dressing in a formal fashion is not a very useful thing, since it doesn't change what you can do?"

He shrugged helplessly. There was nothing more to be said here.

"But, Peter—" his mentor smiled, quite patiently and kindly. "It's the same with the other suit. It keeps you safer and warmer and, well, better taken care of, but the abilities come from you. It allows you to stay anonymous and gives you some additional fancy tricks, but you are Spider-Man, not the suit. The same applies here. You are Peter Parker, not the suit, but the suit gives you a boost."

"A _boost_?"

"OK, let's do it on examples. Here, see."

The StarkPhone came to life and displayed a set of photos.

"This is me, and this is me. Which one is the one you'd expect to see in the lab and which at a board meeting?"

Peter glanced at the two options - full, three-piece suit with a matching shirt and tie and a set of slightly grimy jeans and a faded Metallica t-shirt.

"Is this a trick question?"

Mr Stark snorted.

"Let's say, a SHIELD meeting that I'm taking seriously and a very dirty day of lab work."

He rolled his eyes and pointed out the suit photo.

"SHIELD. If taken _very_ seriously."

"OK, and these?"

"The white shirt and black trousers... a court hearing? And this, well, this is you working on the Audi engine."

"OK, too easy. And I will find out how you know about the court hearing. Anyway, you can see that certain circumstances demand specific mode of dress, correct?"

"But I won't—"

"Correct?"

A sigh. A nod.

"Yes, sir."

"And you have been, gradually, exposed to situations in which people dress up and slip into these formal personae, because of the gravity of the situation they find themselves in?"

"But, Mr Stark—"

"Peter."

"Yes, I have. But what does this—"

"And you, assisting Pepper at a board meeting, dressed in jeans and a science pun t-shirt, is fine, as long as you are fifteen and just known to everyone as a lowly intern, shadowing my wife because he wants to understand how a company works, more or less."

Peter bit his lip.

"I won't be able to come to these meetings with her anymore, will I?"

"Au contraire. You have to go with her to any meeting she deems appropriate for you."

"B-but you said...!"

"And this is why we are here, among other things. Because soon you will no longer be a lowly intern, Peter. You will need these clothes, and I will provide them to you, just like the other suit. This is your business armour, kid. Just like Pepper's high heels and high hairdos, just like my glasses and waistcoats. It's exactly the same thing."

Peter blinked, trying to work out what it was that struck him as new and worrying in the whole speech.

"W-wait," he raised his hand. "What do you mean, 'no longer an intern'? I— have I done something wrong? I'm sorry, I—"

"Peter, just, just stop," Mr Stark caught his shoulders and immobilised him. "These papers I brought for May to sign? Your employment contract."

Peter stopped.

And sat down.

"My what?"

"Beginning first of September, you will be officially employed, part-time — half FTE — under the direct supervision of the CEO. In SI, if there was any unclarity here. Breathe!"

He gasped for air, burying his fingers in his hair. What... what the hell was happening? What was he supposed to say? Thank you? You've just fulfilled my deepest dreams? Are you mad? Does Mrs Stark know?

"You're welcome, nice to know, I'm not, she's the one who came up with it."

Oh. He actually said it aloud.

Oups.

"You need to co-sign them, of course, but May approves. The terms of employment include participating in experimental research and product testing — that's using the suit — assisting CEO in the manner she outlines for you in the first weeks of work — that's shadowing Pepper on key meetings — and work in the R&D. That's us, in my lab. Your proposed pay is, appropriately, half of the junior lab research analyst salary, and SI is known for being a well-paying employer, if I say so myself."

Peter's hands buried themselves in his hair nearly without his conscious control.

"B-but...! School?"

"We will organise everything around your school and afternoon activities, just like the internship. When it comes to tasks and schedule, nothing will change, unless we decide, between the four of us, that it should."

"So, why all of this...?"

A warm hand detached his fingers from his curls.

"Kid. You've been providing more to the company than some long-time employees do. The stuff we are working on? The work we do in my lab? This is your creative input in the future products we will offer to the general public. What you need now is to get a better position to be able to claim the credit for the inventions you have influenced, and as long as you are just an intern, there is always a risk someone will say it's all my work, not yours. And whatever we do, we will never convince anyone that 'just an intern' was able to come up with these solutions."

"So— it's like the suits? To— to convince people that I'm serious?"

"Yeah. Just like that. The same thing inside, slightly different packaging. It's still you, kid. It's still you. It's just what people will see that will change."

Peter sighed. Again. Made a valiant attempt at relaxing.

Smirked.

Met Mr Stark's eyes.

"So, basically, we are pranking people into believing that I'm an adult?"

"Don't make me regret this... But, well, whatever works. Yeah. We're pranking them. Now, then. The blue suit?"

"Okay. The blue one."

Mr Stark nodded slowly.

"Kid?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to tell you a secret," the man smiled at Peter, somehow — sadly? "In fact, being an adult always is, in essence, pranking others into believing that you are responsible and reasonable. Everyone does this."

"Even Mrs Stark?"

"Well. Maybe Pepper not."

"Mhm. I thought so."

"And what does _that_ mean?"

"Nothing, nothing... the blue one then?"


End file.
